


Kiss Him

by wizardsandthrones



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Drugs, F/M, Heartbreak, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Sexual Coercion, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29651109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardsandthrones/pseuds/wizardsandthrones
Summary: Blaise and Theo come over with a few vices, and Pansy reminisces in the only way she can.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott/Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini
Kudos: 6





	Kiss Him

Pansy feels reckless. She sips her wine, curled on the couch, pensive.

Among her various moods, this is the most dangerous. Her anger goes as quickly as it comes, her sorrow sinks her into a deep silence, her happiness only confuses her into uncharacteristic obedience, and her fear quickly builds up the strongest defenses. 

But to feel reckless means she has lost all sense of consequence.

Draco has drifted away from her ever since he started dating Harry. It hurts her more than she would ever tell. He was her best friend. 

Now her closest friends include Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott, though they are much closer between the two of them than with her, as goes with most men. They are a bad influence, always indulging her worst vices, sleeping with multiple women but never committing. Pansy has picked up some of their habits lately, going to bed with anyone who will spare her a glance.

It’s become a fun game to join Blaise and Theo at the bar and see whether she ends up with a man or woman, a Muggle or a wizard. 

Pansy has not been in a serious relationship for over two years since she broke up with Neville. She still thinks of him, his sincerity, his gentle touch, his careful attention to all the little things about her. It was too much. Her defenses rose up to save her before he realized he was too good for her. Before he left her. 

The last she heard was that he’s dating Hannah Abbott, some innocent-looking, blonde Hufflepuff. At first, it drove her mad with jealousy, and whenever her friends mentioned it she laughed viciously to avoid crying. Now the thought of them together just makes her slightly nauseous. 

Her eyes glaze, looking into the fire. A knock from the door pulls her attention away. She sets her glass on the coffee table, and with a wave of her hand, the door opens silently. 

Blaise and Theo walk inside as dashing as ever, the former fitted in a dark purple cloak and gold accents, his head buzzed smooth, the latter clad in all black, as usual, with his dark curls almost obscuring his eyes. They must be holding over a liter of hard alcohol between the two of them. 

“Reminiscing?” Theo asks in his quiet murmur of a voice, looking at Pansy with a small, knowing smile, though his eyes reveal some concern. Of the two boys, Theo sympathizes with her the most, as he had his heart broken by Daphne Greengrass, who left him abruptly and with no explanation after her sister died.

“Only wondering why you were late,” Pansy says with a sly smile. “But I think I know why. The only question is, did you bring any for me?”

Blaise grins, his white teeth flashing. He flourishes a joint between his fingertips. “Anything for you, darling.”

The momentary worry on Theo’s face melts away. After all, he believes in their lifestyle just as much as Blaise, if not more, for his belief comes from a place of hurt. He vehemently believes they are all better off alone.

They join her on the couch, Pansy resting her head on Theo’s chest and her feet lying across Blaise’s lap. Blaise lights the joint with a quick snap of his fingers at the end, hissing when the flame catches his skin, shaking his hand out. He takes a drag, then passes to Theo, who hovers it over Pansy’s red-lipped mouth. 

She takes a deep breath, then exhales long. “I want vodka.”

Theo chuckles beneath her, gently sifting his fingers through her hair. Blaise grabs a bottle and three shot glasses, setting them on the coffee table. 

“Cheers,” he says, before they down their glasses together. 

* * *

Pansy laughs, reaching for another bottle of wine, which they had placed beside her bed when they migrated upstairs later in the night. Blaise and Theo stretch across her mattress.

“But don’t you miss the romance? Just a little?” Pansy asks, laughing again when Blaise gives her a look of pure disgust. Theo only smiles vaguely. 

“What is romance? Some flowers? A profession of love which only means she wants your money?” Blaise shakes his head. “Romance is an illusion.”

“If every man thought like you, it’d be a wonder civilization had not collapsed by now,” Pansy cries, giggling. 

“Not all men think like him, do not fret,” Theo says wryly, though his eyes are sad. 

“I suppose,” Pansy says, echoing his sadness. 

Blaise throws himself back against the bed. “Fuck me. I’m stuck with two heartbroken fools.”

“Fuck you,” Theo says, suddenly, shoving Blaise roughly as if trying to provoke him. The latter sits up, staggering, pushing Theo away with both hands. 

“Don’t fuck with me, mate,” Blaise warns, but Theo has a wild look in his eyes. Pansy knows where this is going. Theo doesn’t say anything, only shoving Blaise again, who grabs Theo by the shoulders, and in the next moment they are grappling on the bed, wrestling each other with the full strength and abandon of two fully grown, drunk men. 

“Stop!” She begins hitting both of them with every word she says. “Stop—you—stupid—fucking— _brutes!”_

With much effort, she manages to pull them apart, both heaving and glaring at the other. 

“I should fuck you up for laying a finger on me,” Blaise says, his tone still menacing though his words are slurred. 

Theo starts as if to make a move at him so Pansy elbows him hard in his side. He grunts and clutches where she struck him, looking at Pansy with a betrayed frown. 

“I will not have your blood spilled on my expensive white satin sheets,” Pansy snaps. 

Blaise and Theo remain tense. Pansy kneels between the two of them, breathing hard. She looks at Theo, and he looks back, his eyes dark and storming. For a moment, the world disappears entirely for her, only his eyes existing, dark hazel rings flecked with yellow, just like—

She kisses him. 

It happens without a thought, and Theo freezes beneath her, before relaxing against her mouth. Blaise stands very still beside them, watching, his eyes still dilated from the fight. Pansy takes Blaise by the arm and pulls him behind her, and his lips find the flush skin of her neck. 

Pansy kisses Theo deeply, and sighs into his mouth when Blaise sucks on her tender skin. She parts only long enough to remove his shirt and hers, then returns to Theo’s mouth. 

Blaise kneels behind her so her back and his chest are flush, his skin smooth and hot against hers. She gasps when his hands grasp both her breasts firmly, clutching Theo’s arms for support. 

Then she feels a hand between her legs, stroking against her jeans, and she moves away, her body cringing.

“Kiss him,” Pansy says, to no one. Then she looks at Theo and says more firmly, her eyes flashing darkly. “Kiss him.”

Theo glances at Blaise, concerned, then at her, uncertain. 

“Kiss him,” she says, her voice breaking. 

Then Theo turns to Blaise properly, who looks at Theo, sizing him up. She sits back, trembling, so as to give them space. They inch closer together, slowly. Theo swallows when they are a breath apart, his eyes flickering to Pansy, who reclines on her pillows, her breasts erect, as her hands slide down and unzip her jeans.

Theo starts forward, then hesitates, before Blaise moves his head and kisses him, a hand cupping Theo’s jaw with a man’s clean direction. Pansy slips her hand further down, finding a rhythm that matches the push and pull of their tongues as they kiss. 

“Pants,” she says, breathless. “Off.”

They look at her once, then do as she says, carefully not looking each other in the eyes. This time Theo takes command, his hand grasping the back of Blaise’s neck. She can see their arousal tenting their briefs. They look glorious, to her, like angels in battle. 

“Touch each other,” she groans, and this time they do not pay her mind, finding each other ready and willing, though it is passionless as the cold heavens above. 

Her fingers move faster, and that pulse throbs inside, deep and aching. She bites her lip as she watches them fitted against each other, not even kissing, just pleasuring, hands grasping between them, their mouths fallen open, uneven breaths in the open spaces, until she must arch her back, head falling against the pillows, eyes shutting closed as a sun sets and dawns inside of her. 

When she comes to, Blaise and Theo are already finished, sitting back, their chests rising and falling rapidly. They do not meet her eyes, and reach for their clothes. 

Pansy sighs, turning away. 

* * *

Pansy lies awake in her bed between Blaise and Theo, who are both dead asleep. Her breath is shallow, choppy, and she knows another minute trapped in this bed will drive her into a panic.

She crawls out from under the covers, careful not to disturb their peace, and looks at her friends. Blaise sleeps with a carelessness that he does not reveal in the daylight, his mouth wide open and one arm dangling over the edge of the mattress. Theo, in contrast, sleeps as if he has no room, curled up on himself, a small crease between his dark brows. 

Pansy creeps downstairs silently, then finds a cigarette in the kitchen. She steps out onto the balcony, shivering from the cold wind. She snaps her fingers at the end of the cigarette, and expertly lights it without burning her fingers, earning herself a bitter smile. 

Her smoke pours out across the horizon, just another haze cloaking the city’s skyline, before disappearing in the air. After another drag, she hears the balcony door slide open and then shut quietly behind her. She does not turn around. 

An arm circles around her waist familiarly, and a chin rests lightly on her shoulder. For a moment, with her eyes closed, holding her breath, he’s there again, a cup of coffee in his hand, made just how she likes it, and in a second he will kiss her cheek and whisper good morning. 

Then Theo murmurs, “I know.”

The vision fades away, leaving her head throbbing and her heart aching. Her breath rattles in her chest, and tears that she can no longer keep at bay track down her face, slowly at first, then uncontrollably, and she hiccups and bites her fist so as not to break down completely. 

“I know,” he says in a voice that is wrong, all wrong. “I know.”

He stays and holds her as she cries, her chest shuddering against him, longing for the ghost of a lover that never dies. 


End file.
